


They Breathe

by summerwines



Category: Free!
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Sexual Content, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwines/pseuds/summerwines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He jumps into the water and he catches Haru by the waist. He gives him a kiss, knowing he has nothing to worry about, because Haru will lead him to whatever it is he wants to see, to that beautiful thing.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this because I wanted to prove to myself that Mako/Haru is as powerful a pairing as it is in my head (if that makes sense?). I also have this vision of Free! being a ~surrealistic~ narrative, so yeah, I tried to sneak that in there. Hope it's to everyone's fancy.

**i.**

Makoto remembers the rain, the rocking chair, and the words, like silk, escaping the mouth of Haru’s grandmother. They were six, and Makoto was sleeping over at Haru’s house. Always, whenever they did this, they would go to Haru’s grandmother’s room to hear the stories she was privy to tell, sometimes folktales, sometimes anecdotes from her vibrant youth.

“Haru was born by a river,” she said, and Makoto was immediately gripped. He sat by Haru’s grandmother’s feet, mouth agape, eyes in awe, with Haru right beside him, looking like he’s heard this story time and again.

“Haru was born by a river,” she said, once more, “It was on a night like this. Quite beautiful, actually.” She said she remembered her relatives running around their small house in the countryside, hot water spilling from basins, sweat trickling down everyone’s foreheads, including hers. She remembered how calm Haru’s father was compared to everyone else. The man was young, still bearing his boyish charms, “I’ve got this. Don’t worry,” he said. He made everyone stay mute and step aside, as they all heard the splashes from the river outside, as his wife was sprawled on the bed, her black hair a waterfall on the pillows, her whimpers weak, barely breathing. The rain pelted on the roof; thunder boomed. There was no doctor coming to the house, so it was up to Haru’s father to deliver the child.

The house became a harbor of sounds, cries and screams, though slowly and surely, it became more peaceful, with but a few sounds echoing around the house: the soft cries of a newborn baby and the swoon of a mother.

Outside, the rain subsided, dripping down the leaves of trees, giving way to the light of stars. “Your father was out there,” Haru’s grandmother said, smiling at her grandson. “He was out there, and he was crying. He was crying a river, and he was so happy that you were safe, Haruka-chan.”

Haru’s grandmother continued on, retelling what she saw the next day – “I was hanging the clothes, when I saw your parents, just standing there, by the river, their backs behind anyone that could have been watching.”

She saw them, with baby Haru cradled in his father’s arms. She could barely see the profile of their faces, but she could tell they were happy, smiling, and relishing the peacefulness of the water in front of them. They kissed, mouths like soul mates. “It was beautiful,” she said.

Makoto sat in awe, a smile overcoming his face. He looked at Haru and he saw that his face was as blank as ever. Makoto wanted to shake something out of him, “You’re pretty magical aren’t you, Haru-chan?” he said. Haru looked away, frowning.

Haru’s grandmother laughed, and she closed her eyes. She yawned a few words, “I’m sure you boys will see something just as beautiful, someday,” and then she slept. Haru looked at her, and Makoto looked at her. Makoto smiled, and he thought about what she said. He thought about Haru, and how someday, maybe, they could do something, not just see something, that’d be as beautiful as the story of his birth.

This rainy night is vivid in Makoto’s memory, and it always will be, in the years to come. Makoto flashed a grin at Haru, and Haru didn’t turn away. Haru smiled too, just a little bit, and Makoto swore that at that exact moment, Haru read his mind, knew exactly what he was thinking.

 

 

**ii.**

They grow up. Their limbs grow longer. Their friendship grows stronger.

Makoto goes for a run, hours before his parents and siblings wake to flood their house with noise, with requests for breakfast, with reminders for chores. Makoto wears his jersey and shorts, and he goes out, runs up the stairwell.

He passes by Haru’s house, and he almost knocks. He wants to ask him to run with him, but he decides against it, since Haru will probably berate him. The guy loves to sleep.

So Makoto runs, through houses, through shops, saying hi to the paperboy and to the old woman watering her lilies.

He runs, until he reaches the beach, and he notices something. He sees a figure, just standing there, at the center of everything, wearing a shirt and shorts, bare feet on the sand.

“Haru?” Makoto runs for him, gets sand in his shoes. It’s six in the morning, and everything is quiet. Haru’s hair is dry, for once. His face is relaxed, cheekbones soft, against the pale morning light.

Haru glances at Makoto, for a split second. “Good morning,” he says, before he looks away. “I had a feeling you’d come here.”

“What’s up, Haru? Why are you—“ Makoto looks down to Haru’s feet, pants, and then he stares at Haru’s face. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Haru says, a gust of wind hitting his hair. “I’ve been thinking about this book I read a few days ago.”

“Book? You mean something for school?”

“No.” Haru shakes his head. “I borrowed one, from the library.”

“You—You borrowed a book?”

“Yes.”

“What was it about?”

“Folktales. Like the ones grandma used to tell us. Folktales about water.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Haru smiles. Makoto sees this and his neck heats up instantly. He blushes. Haru closes his eyes and says, “There’s supposed to be a palace in the water, made of red and white corals.”

“Is that right?” Makoto smiles, faintly.

“Yes. The dragon god lives there. They say he’s able to mimic the shape of a human, if he wants to.”

“That sounds scary, Haru.”

“I think it sounds beautiful.”

Makoto falls silent, and Haru opens his eyes.

“I wish we could dive deep enough to see it,” Haru says. “I wish we could swim down there, together.”

“I—“ Makoto gulps, and he stares at the ocean, copying Haru. “I don’t think I can do that, Haru.”

“You’re still afraid?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“It’s fine,” Haru says.

“But it looks like you really want to do it.”

“Not on my own.”

“You can take Rin, or Nagisa, or Rei.”

Haru shakes his head. “No, it won’t work with them.”

“Oh—“ Makoto gulps. “Okay, then.”

“So you’ll try?”

Makoto closes his eyes. He bites back a laugh. “Sure, Haru. Of course. Anything for you.”

 

 

**iii.**

One spring day, in front of the convenience store, Makoto is stopped and held by the hand, by Haru. “There’s something that’s been on my mind,” Haru said, before all this. Makoto listens, to what Haru has to say. He listens, because when he tried to read Haru’s face, what he saw in his eyes was too impossible. Makoto needs the words, just to be sure.

When Makoto learns that Haru loves him, he jumps him at once, kisses his face, holds his cheeks. “I love you too, Haru. I love you so much.”

Haru sobs, and Makoto doesn’t know why. Makoto kisses his cheeks, and he sucks away the tears. He kisses Haru’s nose, and he kisses Haru’s lips, again and again. Haru keeps on crying, and Makoto doesn’t know what else to do.

“Have I—Have I hurt you, Haru? Was it something I said?” Makoto wants to cry too. His lips tremble, and he holds Haru’s face. “What is it Haru?” Makoto kisses him. “You said you loved me, right? I heard that correctly, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you did,” Haru says. “And—And I didn’t—I didn’t expect—I didn’t think—Makoto—“ Haru leans up and takes Makoto’s hair in his hands. He kisses Makoto, hard, like he’s quenching his hunger.

“Haru, I love you. I always have.”

“Me too. I love you, Makoto.”

“Why’d you tell me now, of all times?”

“Why have you never told me at all?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Then your question’s moot, isn’t it?”

Makoto has to agree, because he’s getting all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever needed. Haru kisses him, again, and Makoto feels his heart rate quicken. He feels a heat on his neck, a flush on his cheeks, and a churn in his stomach. Makoto licks Haru’s teeth and Haru’s gums. They separate, with spit outlining their lips. Makoto goes to lick Haru’s neck. There’s no one around, so Makoto doesn’t attempt to hold back at all, and nor does Haru. They grope each other, and Makoto pushes Haru against the concrete wall. Haru keeps his hands at the small of Makoto’s back, rubs it carefully, sending jolts through Makoto’s spine.

“I want to swim with you forever,” Haru says. He’s so weird, and so adorable, and Makoto loves him so much.

“I do too,” Makoto says. Anything Haru wants, he wants too. That’s just the way things go.

There’s a glint in Haru’s eyes when they stop and stare at each other, boring into one another. There’s a glint that Makoto can read and Makoto can mimic easily. Makoto can almost feel his name rushing out of Haru’s eyes, and it’s weird, pretty self-absorbed, pretty impossible, but it’s there. It’s beautiful, and it’s such a shame, that he’s the only one who could ever see it.

 

 

**iv.**

They say it was round, spinning, giving off a light the color of diamonds. They say it rushed over the sea and it sent a huge wave crashing down the middle of the ocean. They say they heard voices, in the distance, speaking a foreign tongue.

There’s a UFO sighting off the coast of their town. It makes the sidelines of a national news program. With the light from his TV flashing pale on their faces, Makoto, Haru, Nagisa, and Rei watch as supposed witnesses are interviewed on the news. It’s not big news, but it still gets them interested because it’s the first time their town has ever gotten any sort of publicity.

Nagisa and Haru believe it. Makoto and Rei do not, though Makoto is still very much open to convincing.

“Even Haru-chan agrees with me! Take that, Rei-chan.”

“W—Haru-sempai—You—You actually believe in these stuff?”

Makoto and Haru sit beside each other on the bed, while Nagisa and Rei are scrambled on the floor. Makoto has an arm around Haru’s shoulders, and it’s no big deal at all, even to Nagisa and Rei.

When Rei asks the question, Makoto chuckles, because he sees Haru’s shrug. Rei shakes his hands in the air, “But seriously? Aliens?”

“There are lots of things out there,” Haru says.

“Like what, Haru-chan?” Nagisa leans against the bed, eyes happy and wide.

“Like spirits, and dragon gods, and ame-warashi. So—“ Haru rests his head on Makoto’s shoulder. “So aliens don’t seem too weird, I guess.”

Nagisa quirks up, gesticulates, “Haru-chan is so, so cool.” Rei shrinks and sighs, looking embarrassed to even be here. Makoto ruffles Haru’s hair, and he says, “Well, I don’t believe in aliens either, but I guess Haru has a point.” He smiles.

“Hmmm,” Nagisa giggles. “You just agree with whatever Haru-chan says, don’t you, Mako-chan?”

“Yeah, I kind of do,” Makoto says, with a nervous laugh and a scratch on the head.

“Because he loves me,” Haru says.

“Mmmhmm,” Nagisa says, giggling some more, giggling in triumph.

“Y—You guys say such weird things,” Rei says, adjusting his glasses.

“Sorry, Rei,” Makoto says.

“But it’s true, right?” Haru says, not meeting his eyes, showing no emotion at all.

“Yeah, of course,” Makoto says, and he sees it makes Nagisa laugh, Rei stiffen, and Haru smirk. 

“Knew it,” Haru says, and Makoto doesn’t understand. Haru closes his eyes, and he repeats, “I knew it,” before he falls silent once more.

 

 

**v.**

The first time they fuck, it’s slow, intense, wet. Makoto fucks him and he’s so afraid of what might happen if he moves his hips a certain way, thrusts a certain way. The second time, it’s fast, hard, and he cums in a few minutes. He’s on his back, and Haru is above him. Makoto is no longer afraid, and nor is Haru. Makoto sees it from the way Haru rides his cock, lips quirked up, drool splotched on his jaw, hair all covered in must.

The first and the second time happen on the same night, on the same bed, in the same empty household.

“That felt really, really good,” Haru says, fingers trailing down Makoto’s chest.

Makoto can hardly speak, as he covers his eyes with his hands and he pants, so tired, so sweaty. He cannot understand how Haru can keep so calm, and peaceful.

“Makoto,” Haru says.

Makoto breathes. “W—Wait just a minute, H—Haru-chan—“

“You smell nice,” Haru says.

“I—“ He pants. “I do?”

“Yeah.”

Haru licks his chest.

“Oh—Oh god, Haru.”

“I love you, Makoto.”

He says that a lot.

“Haru—“ Makoto manages to look at him, and he realizes he’s tearing up. Haru smiles at him, and it’s the worst thing ever. He seriously needs a good tear, a good cry. Makoto wonders if it was all leading up to this. Was this ever meant to happen? Did any god will this? Is this some sort of divine intervention? Because Haru is impossible. Haru is a godsend. There must be someone, out there, who made this happen, because Makoto can no longer believe that just because he wanted this, he got it. There must be something more to it.

“I love you, Makoto. A lot.”

“H—Haru—“

They kiss, and again, Makoto thinks, _shit, shit, shit, this can’t be real._

 

 

**vi.**

It’s beautiful, how the place is exactly like Makoto imagined it, many years ago.

They fuck outside, against the walls of the house, Haru carried, Haru with his firm legs spread around Makoto’s body. No one is there; no one can see them. A dog barks, a little far off, and a swan wades in the river. But there is no other person except the two of them.

When they finish, they’re kissing, softly, wiping their chests and their crotches with a handkerchief from Makoto’s pocket. They lie on the grass, holding hands. Makoto imagines that this is their house, where they can stay forever, where they can live as an old married couple till their bodies fail them.

For the rest of the day, Haru sits by the water, and Makoto watches him silently, sure that he’s thinking of his grandmother and his parents, who he hasn’t spoken to for quite some time.

Night comes and Makoto lies down with Haru on the bed, with its springs that squeak at every movement. They are fresh from a bath in the river. They are fresh from eating pieces of mango as they washed their bodies. This time, they decide that they’re too tired, that holding each other will be enough for tonight. They wear comfortable pajamas that cover most of their bodies, Makoto in green, Haru in blue.

They sleep, dreams of future times flooding Makoto’s head. He wishes Haru would dream of the same thing.

In the morning, it rains, and they delay their trip back to their town. They listen as rain pelts hard on their roof, as the currents splash water onto the soil.

“If grandma were still alive, she’d say this was beautiful,” Haru says, hair like a waterfall on Makoto’s stomach.

“I’m sure she would,” Makoto says, caressing Haru’s left hand, pressing through the gaps of his fingers.

“What about you? Do you think this is beautiful?”

“You mean us? You and me, Haru? Of course.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good, then.”

“Yeah,” Makoto giggles.

Haru leans up to give Makoto a kiss. “I wish we owned this house,” Haru says.

“You just read my mind, Haru.”

“Don’t I always?”

Makoto kisses his cheek. “I forgot, sorry.”

“I love you, Makoto.”

Again, with that.

“Yeah, Haru.

“Don’t forget it, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” He means it. Of course he does.

Haru smiles, sleeps, whispers a final goodnight before he dreams. Makoto stays awake, picks up a thick book left on the bedside table, one about the fairy spirits living in rivers on mountains. Makoto leans down to kiss Haru, just once, before he leaves him be, before he goes to his book.

 

 

**vii.**

He remembers the festival lights, adorned with a seaport and faraway mountains as a backdrop.

They wore yukatas, Makoto in green, Haru in blue. They ate their cotton candy, walking by the fishermen and their wives, watching them light lanterns, watching them cook their special fish with special seasoning.

They went to the slope of a hill, on a park bench where everything can be seen, lights, people, the sea.

Haru said his name. It was like a song.

Makoto heard the question, asking about the sea and the sky, asking whether or not they were alive.

Makoto could only say maybe, because who was he to say anything? Who was he to get Haru’s hopes up?

Though, that was then. Everything is different now.

Today, Makoto assures Haru that all of it is true. He believes in them, because there’s a great possibility that he owes them a million – no – an infinity, an eternity of favors. There’s a possibility that Haru was sent here, to this earth, by those gods who breathe life to the waters and the skies.

Today, Makoto catches a fish at the seaport, in that one town, in that place where his fears came to fruition, where he realized that Haru was the one for him, always will be. It scared him, the ocean did. And so did knowing what he wanted from his best friend, who hugged that night, hugged tight, all those years ago, when they knew nothing of the world and the things beyond it.

Makoto reels in the fish, and Haru watches him with feet dipped in the water, palms flat on the wood of the dock.

This is yet another trip with only the two of them, yet another time when Haru asks whether Makoto believes in impossible things, in breathing seas and skies.

“I knew it,” Haru says, as soon as he got the answer. Makoto sits beside him, holding their pail of fish, sardine and mackerel.

Haru stands, and Makoto watches him as he takes off his shirt, revealing his skin, soft, inviting. Haru has his swimsuit on, and Makoto can only laugh, since it’s pretty expected.

“I knew I was right,” Haru says, closing his eyes, stretching his arms back. “I just needed you tell me, to make sure,” he adds.

Haru jumps, and Makoto swears he grew fins and a tail. Quite ridiculous, really, because Haru didn’t grow fins and a tail. It just always seems that way, when he glides through the water.

Makoto breathes. He closes his eyes, much like Haru did a few moments ago. Makoto breathes, and he feels a lightness in his stomach, a breeze on his hair.

“Haru!” he shouts, and immediately he sees the one he loves rise from the water.

“Yes?"

Makoto smiles. “Nothing,” he says. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Okay,” Haru says. “Are you getting in?”

“Maybe not,” Makoto says, and Haru huffs, and shrugs, goes back to swimming in circles.

Makoto remembers the rain, the rocking chair, and the words, like silk, escaping the mouth of Haru’s grandmother. “I’m sure you boys will see something just as beautiful, someday,” she said.

Makoto thinks about it, and he wants to say that he’s already achieved that, but he can’t, because he hasn’t achieved it, not just yet. 

Haru swims and it’s beautiful, Makoto knows. But he thinks, maybe, there’s still more out there.

Haru swims, and Makoto ends up jumping in with him, despite what he said. He jumps and he catches Haru by the waist. He gives him a kiss, knowing he has nothing to worry about, because Haru will lead him to whatever it is he wants to see, to that beautiful thing. Makoto knows it, so he kisses Haru, and tells him he loves him.

The clouds break; they spread out. The sun lets loose a flash of light between them. The sea whispers a lullaby. Makoto hears it, faint waves, boats and seagulls. Haru hears it too. He says so. He says the sea is talking, he can hear it, _can you hear it too?_ It’s there, it’s there, the sea, _Makoto, listen._

 

**the end.**


End file.
